Things That Should Never Be Counted
by SirEskimoChuck
Summary: Castiel Novak had a few rules that he lived by. 1) Never tell anyone your real name. 2) Every ten years move to a new city and start life over as a completely new person. 3) Never fall in love. "Years, lovers, glasses of wine. These are things that should never be counted." *This story is heavily inspired by the movie 'Age of Adaline'.*
1. Chapter 1

**December 31** **st** **, 2014**

The room smelled like mothballs. It wasn't an overpowering scent, Castiel was thankful for that but it was still present enough that when he entered Kevin Tran's apartment his nose started to itch forcing him to rub at it in hopes of stopping the oncoming sneeze. The younger man met his eyes and smiled apologetically. Castiel merely waved it off, it wasn't the others fault that many older buildings in Brooklyn smelt as old as they truly were. It added… well, character?

"I've got your new identification already printed out, Mr. Milton," Kevin broke the silence as he scratched the back of his neck expressing the awkward tension building up between them. Castiel smiled warmly trying to calm the other's nerves.

"Please call me Jimmy. My father is Mr. Milton and seeing as he's still alive and kicking it's only fair that he remains Mr. Milton," Castiel laughed, the lie easily slipping from his lips as if it were the truth. Kevin gave a sharp nod before he gestured his guest to follow him further into the apartment.

"I added some little flaws and specs on the picture because it makes it look more authentic," Kevin explained and quickly glanced back at the man following him. He then entered the small office space near the back of the apartment where a computer and a large machine that Castiel assumed to be some sort of printer were set up. A brown package sat on top of the computer's keyboard. Kevin headed straight for it and picked it up.

"Here," Kevin said, handing Castiel the brown envelope. "In there you've got your driver's license, passport, birth certificate, and any other form of identification you might need." Castiel said nothing; he pushed open the flap of the packaging and fished out the first thing his finger touched; his passport. Slowly, he grazed his fingers over the front cover before flipping it open to the page with his picture. There he was, staring blankly into the camera as one does in any passport photo. It was him without a doubt but the name and signature were not his own and they hadn't been for a very long time. Instead of 'Castiel Novak' the name of the man who owned this passport was Thomas Barth.

Thomas Barth was a struggling gallery owner who was packing up and moving his work from Kansas City to Portland in hopes of making it big in a more artsy location. Every new identity had a new story. Jimmy Milton was in love with history and followed that passion to New York City where he worked at the Department of Records and was naturally very proud of that, thank you very much. Before him, Noah Howells had been a bar tender in a shabby little place in Baltimore. Benjamin Patterson had owned a furniture store in Charleston. Fitz Short played live music in Chicago. Freddie Carlisle was a secretary at a doctor's office in Seattle. Edwin White was studying medicine in London. Mathieu Guérin was a writer from Paris who had moved to a small town in hopes of finding inspiration. And Castiel Novak, well, he'd been dead for a very long time.

"So what do you think?" Kevin's voice broke Castiel out of his nostalgic state. The man blinked before stuffing the passport back into the envelope and meeting the other's gaze full on.

"It's perfect. You are very talented," Castiel said before briefly pausing. "But I have to ask, why are you wasting such a talent? I assume you know the fine for forgery? Not to mention the four years of jail time that you'd be serving," Castiel added as he raised a single eyebrow. However, he had to force his face to remain expressionless and not twist up into a smile when he saw Kevin's expression shattered into fear at the question.

"Y-You're an undercover cop, aren't you?" his voice shook. Castiel couldn't help the laugh that left his throat. He shook his head as to relax some of the other's fears.

"Not at all, you have nothing to worry about, Kevin," the older of the two said before stuffing the envelope into his messenger bag. "Thank you again for everything."

With that, Castiel turned on his heels and started for the door.

"Hey wait!" Kevin managed to say before he quickly moved after his guest. Castiel stopped, his hand hovering over the doorknob of the apartment's front door. Slowly, Castiel turned around to see Kevin with his hand extended out and a small smile twisting the corners of his lips. Castiel mirrored the expression back and reached out to shake the other's hand.

"Happy New Years, Jimmy," Kevin said as he let go of his hand.

"The same to you, Kevin," Castiel replied genuinely before opening the old apartment door and heading out onto the bustling streets of Brooklyn. A few seconds later, Castiel managed to wave down a taxi. After living in New York for as long as he had the act of waving down a taxi cab had been almost turned into an art form.

"Seventy-Seven Greene Avenue, Brooklyn," Castiel said as the car took off into the morning traffic.

"Honey, I'm home!" Castiel called out as he closed the door of his house. At first there was no reply but a few seconds later a ball of white fur pokes it head around the corner to see who it is that has dare enter its home. A loving smile stretches across Castiel's lips as he walks over to his white Persian cotton ball of a cat.

"How has your morning been so far, Churchill?" his voice sweet and dripping with admiration for the small beast. Churchill says nothing because of the whole 'cat thing' and instead stares up expressionlessly at his owner.

"I'm not going to be here for long," Castiel tells the creature as he bends down to scratch behind Churchill's ears. The cat licks his hand in response before stalking over to an armchair and making himself at home. "Spoiled brat," Castiel rolls his eyes. He follows Churchill over to where he has a bit of a living room set up and places his messenger bag down on the wooden coffee table. The latches on the bag are cold against his fingers as Castiel maneuvers them open so he can pull out the envelope and place it on the table.

"You're really going to like Portland," he says absently to Churchill. "Sure you seem like more of a New Yorker but the fresh air will do wonders for you. I reckon it isn't as bustling. It's going to be odd to be able to actually have quiet nights!" Churchill makes no acknowledgment of Castiel. A sigh escapes the man's lips. "You aren't yourself today. Is the cold getting to you?" It's less of a question and more of a thought. Castiel shakes his head and turns his focus back to the open bag. Once the latches are closed the bag is thrown over his shoulder.

"I best be going, kitty. No rest for the wicked I suppose." And with that, the dark haired man scratches his cat behind its ears once more and heads back out onto the streets of the city that truly never sleeps.

This time when Castiel gets into the back seat of a cab he says:

"Thirty-One Chambers Street, New York."

"Jimmy!" the shrill voice of Charlie Bradbury rang through the room as he entered his office. The ginger haired girl ran up to him, a huge grin on her face. "I didn't think you would be coming into work today. Garth even agreed," she exclaimed as a small brunette, Garth, peeked around a stack of books on his desk and nodded in agreement.

"You know I couldn't skip out on you guys," Castiel admitted before walking over to his own desk and setting his bag on the ground before stripping of his coat and draping it over the old worn out black office chair. "Plus, the partying isn't even until tonight, you two know that."

"How could I forget?" Charlie laughed and patted her friend on the shoulder. "I assume you are still coming to the party at The Waldorf Astoria?"

"Of course, Charlie, it's tradition after all," he replied and shot her a quick smile before realizing there was a large brown box on top of his desk. Charlie, knowing Castiel all too well took notice that his attention had shifted from her to the box.

"We just got those films in today. I assumed you would want to take a peek at them and then of course organize them," she explained. Castiel peered into the box and grabbed a roll of film. A warm wave of nostalgia flooded over him as he realized the box was full of film that spanned from the turn of the 19th century until the early 1960's.

"You know me far too well, Celeste," Castiel joked, his gaze still glued to the writing on the film in his hands. When he did look up he was greeted by a scowl that had no bite behind it. Charlie had always hated her real name and the only reason Castiel knew it was because one night they had gotten drunk and she had told him. Of course, Castiel was never going to let her forget the fact that he knew.

"I should have never told you my real name," she sighed and shook her head before adding "also get to work, Jim, those films aren't going to watch themselves."

Castiel didn't reply, instead he made a face at his friend before lifting up the cardboard box and walking out of the room. The little theatre setup was a few doors down the hall which in that moment he was thankful for because the box of film had been heavier than he would have expected.

Once in the room, Castiel pushed the door closed with his foot and set the box down as carefully as he could beside the vintage projector. He knelt down next to the box and picked the earliest film in the set. 1908. Ah, now that had been a simpler time. Shaking off the nostalgia once more, Castiel set up the film before he swiftly went to flick off the lights. He took a seat in the only chair in the room. It was wooden with a ratty old cushion and if you brushed you skin against the actual wood part of the chair the fear of getting a splinter was all too real. However, today Castiel didn't care. Instead he watched the grainy footage playing before him. It didn't take long before he found himself lost in thoughts of a time now forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel Novak was born Wednesday, January 1st, 1908, only two minutes after the clocks chimed in the start of a new year. His parents, Rebecca and Charles Novak, had been overjoyed by the healthy birth of their first and only child. It wasn't very long after when the Novak's luck seemed to have run out. In the winter of 1912, Rebecca fell sick and died from Tuberculosis leaving her young son and grieving husband behind.

For a while, life seemed to even itself out. However, like all good things, it didn't last. Four years later, Charles Novak was drafted off to fight alongside other American's in Europe. Castiel was still fairly young at the time and was confused by the sudden change in his life. He had been moved to live with his aunt Anna until Charles returned home from war.

Charles, as fate would have it, never did come home. He was instead one of the many casualties the allies faced during the Battle of Amiens which is also known as the Third Battle of Picardy and if you want to get really fancy the French call it 3ème Bataille de Picardie. Yet no matter how fancy the battle sounded it still ripped Castiel's father from him on August 12th only hours before the battle was one. Eleven year old Castiel cried himself to sleep for a month after the telegram arrived on Anna's doorstep.

From then on Castiel Novak became a silent boy. There were only a handful of people he held close to his heart, all of which were part of his family. Financially, the Novak's had nothing to worry about. Anna lived in New York City which hadn't been much at the time but it was always enough and still constantly growing and changing.

Things took a turn on December 23rd, 1925, when Balthazar and Gabriel Novak dragged their cousin, Castiel, too one of the many Christmas parties that New York City had to offer its elite youth. It was no surprises that parties were without a doubt not Castiel's forte but he had learned fairly quickly how to grin and bear it. It was, however, that snowy winter night that nearly eighteen year old Castiel Novak fell in love.

Hael Shurley had been sweet but her wit was sharp and that's what Castiel liked about her. It was easy to talk to her. He adored her with everything he had in him and the feeling seemed to be mutual. The two lovebirds were married on January 6th, 1926 in a small chapel. Nine months later, Hael gave birth to Hannah Novak; the couple's first and only child as fate would so harshly have it. On March 3rd, 1929, Hael Novak died from what doctors assumed to have Pneumonia. She left behind a grieving husband that was only 21 years old and her two year old daughter.

Things were tough for the Castiel and Hannah. Once the stock market crashed on October 24th, 1929, money seemed to be getting tighter. More often than not Castiel had to leave his young daughter with Anna while he worked harder and harder in the city. Eventually, it did pay off and money was once again something that the family worried less about.

Castiel knew hardships, he had faced them throughout his entire life but nothing prepared him for the events that took place July 3rd, 1937.

He had been driving to the town of Beacon where ten year old Hannah sat up waiting for her father to arrive at Anna's. The night had been clear and yet so quickly that fact seemed to change. Castiel leaned forward in an attempt to get a better view of the small flakes that were falling from the sky. For the first time, it was snowing a few miles away from the town of Woodbury in the middle of the summer.

Disaster struck. Castiel's visibility went from 100% to 0% in what seemed like a blink of an eye. The old car drifted on the wet spots on the road and Castiel fought to regain control of the vehicle but ended up failing. A pained cry escaped his lips as he found himself lurching left as the car spun through a fence on the road. Time seemed to slow down. The world was spinning. All Castiel could remember was the rush of water as the car plunged into a river below the edge of the small cliff he had spun off of.

The emergent in the frigid river caused Castiel's body to go into an anoxic reflex instantly stopping his breathing then slowing his heart beat. Within two minutes. Castiel Novak's core temperature had dropped to eighty-seven degrees. His heart stopped beating. By any definition, Castiel Novak was dead.

Miracles are a touchy subject. Some people believe in them while other's think they are a load of horseshit. But what happened after Castiel Novak died was either some miracle or sheer luck because at exactly 8:55pm a bolt of lightning struck the car discharging half a billion volts of electricity and producing sixty-thousand amps in current. Its effect was threefold.

First: The charge defibrillated Castiel's heart.

Second: He was jolted out of his anoxic state causing him to draw his first breath in two minutes. With life seeping back into his body, Castiel had managed to pull himself from the sinking car and make it to land before he collapsed.

And lastly: Based on Barlin's Principle of Electron Compression and Dechloric Acid (which won't be discovered until the year 2035) Castiel Novak would henceforth be immune to the ravages of time. He would never age another day.

Naturally, life after that caused new and strange complications. As Hannah aged, Castiel did not. He had narrowly escaped being sent off to fight in the Second World War. It was in 1943 when he is almost thirty-six and Hannah is seventeen that he is forced to run off. They get two one way tickets to France and remain in the quiet town of Amiens until the fall of 1947 when the war had ended and returning to New York is safe once more.

The peace of being back home lasted until one warm summer night in 1955 when Castiel is forty-seven but still looks twenty-nine. He is stopped by two male police officers while he is leaving his job as a book keeper in a small hospital.

"Castiel Novak?" his name is called. Fear surges through his body.

"I'm sorry, I think you've got me mistaken for someone else," he lies but he knows they don't believe him.

"This will be a lot easier if you don't fight us, ," one officer says. The fear is what causes Castiel to remain frozen in spot.

"We've just got a few question's for you is all. There is something not quite right about your residential documentation and we merely want to work it out," the other officer says. Castiel's brain is working a mile a minute. There is a hand on his shoulder and before he knows it he is being forced into a car. The doors are locked preventing his escape.

'They think I'm a communist,' the realization dawns on him as the car begins to drive. He had seen the trials all over the news recently. The whole country of America was drowning in its own fear of communism that had sparked after the end of the Second World War. He had been careless and now he was going to be sent off to stand trial in a vain attempt to prove that he wasn't some spy. He had to escape.

Fifteen minutes later the vehicle stopped. One officer looks back at Castiel.

"This will only take a minute," one of the men smiled and Castiel could see maggots in his teeth. He had to escape, that much he knew. How? Well that was a completely new problem. He had to be quick. Castiel glanced around trying to find a way out. A minute passed and he was getting more panicked every second. Then, it dawned on him. If he could get over the back seat and through the trunk he should be able to make a quick and quiet escape. So, with all the energy he could muster, Castiel Novak manages to pull off part of the back of the car that connects into the trunk. He pushes open the door and slips out onto the rain soaked ground and he runs. He runs and he doesn't stop until he is banging on Hannah's front door. She answers a few minutes later, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

It is that night that Castiel Novak realizes that he can't stay.

"I'll always be your father," he looks over to Hannah who is looking back at him from the passenger seat of her car. She seems worried and confused. "It's just that the next time you see me I'll be known as someone else. Do you understand?" The girl nods.

"Yes," her voice is weak. It breaks Castiel's heart. He pulls his only daughter into a tight hug before kissing her on the forehead. When he leaves the car Castiel Novak is declared dead.


	3. Chapter 3

Castiel wiped at his eyes. He hadn't even noticed the tears slipping down his cheeks until the taste of salt dripped onto his taste buds. The film before him had long since stopped rolling but the nostalgic memories of people and places long gone had lingered around. The room was dark. Castiel pushed the button on his watch and the hands illuminated.

4:46pm.

The day had passed by and he had hardly noticed. Charlie and Garth had no doubt already gone home; after all, no one wants to stick around work on New Year's Eve. Castiel picked up the box of film and made his way to the hallway. The door was pulled closed behind him.

The taxi ride home was longer than he would have liked. He kept urging the driver to take alternative routes but his requests went unheard. Castiel wasn't in his house until nearly 6pm.

"Evening, Churchill," he greeted the white ball of fluff as he made his way past the arm chair the animal was sitting in. When Churchill noticed Castiel he jumped off the chair and trailed after him.

"Hungry aren't you?" he raised an eyebrow at the creature who meowed as if to say 'yes'. With a thoughtful nod Castiel entered the kitchen. He went over to the counter and pulled open a drawer. It was full with little cans of wet cat food. After browsing the many cans he decided on one called 'feline feast'. Castiel pulled the metal tab off the can and poured half of it into Churchill's bowl and the other half was stored in the fridge until the morning.

With the cat happily eating, Castiel slipped out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. On the far wall was an old dark wooden door that was rarely opened. Behind the door sat parts and pieces of Castiel's entire timeline. Decades ago, he had realized that living in the past would only result in him living his endless existence in more misery than he needed and so he locked everything away. However, that night was one of the few where Castiel opened up his life and stepped in.

The first thing that greeted him was dust. It didn't surprise him that a thin layer of time blanketed much of the space. Castiel ran a finger across an old oak table and looked at the specks of grey before brushing it away on his jeans. He glanced around and then headed to a silver rack that had a few clothing pieces hanging from it. Castiel ran his fingers through the different pieces until he decided on a certain suit. It was black but ever so slightly worn in certain spots like the left elbow, nothing extremely noticeable. He hadn't worn the suit for nearly five decades. It was saved for special occasions and Castiel decided that his last New Year's Eve party in New York for a long time was worthy enough. A small sad smile curved his lips. The city always had a special piece of his heart and leaving it was like leaving a part of him. Each time he entered the borders of New York City he was left slightly smaller than he had entered. Castiel shook off the thought. Now was not the time to get emotional.

The suit still fit like a glove, a bonus of never aging, he supposed. Before Castiel left his house he noticed Churchill sulking around his dress shoes that were sitting by the front door. He let out a small laugh and knelt down to pet the creature.

"I promise you that you truly have no interest in attending this party," he explained before going to put on his polished pair of oxfords.

"I can't keep Charlie waiting too long. She'll think I ditched her. Anyway, happy new year, Churchill, I won't be out too late." And with that, Castiel was out the door.

The Palace Hotel was always one of the best places to be on New Year's Eve. The crowd wasn't too young nor was it too old. Everyone was friendly enough. It was for the most part a nice environment.

"Jimmy!" a voice called out over the chatter of the crowd. Castiel turned towards the direction of the voice and was not surprised to see Charlie waving at him enthusiastically. He waved back before making his way over to her.

"I thought you were never coming!" She exclaimed.

"Oh please, you know I wasn't going to just not show up," he chuckled before taking a seat beside her. "Have I missed anything?"

Charlie just waved the question away.

"Not a thing."

The night slowly dragged by. It wasn't that Castiel would have rather been anywhere else. It was just that he'd been to so many parties over the course of his already long lifetime that low and behold they'd started to lose their touch a long time ago. Not only that but he truly had never been one for large parties anyway. He was there for Charlie more so than himself. Charlie and Hannah were the things he was going to miss the most about New York and that was saying a lot. Of course he'd keep in touch with Charlie and visit over the course of the next few years but when she would start aging more than him he would start to cut himself from her life because that was the easiest and least painful way to not have to watch her die without him.

Everything was going exactly the same as it had for the last few hours until in the literal blink of an eye something changed. It had really happened so fast. One moment Castiel was scanning the crowds of people that filled the ballroom for what must have been the twelfth time in give or take ten minutes and then his gaze froze on a stranger standing just inside the entrance of the room. Castiel blinked. The man was really something. He wasn't standing too far away and so Castiel was easily able to see the freckles that dusted his skin as though they were stars blinking in the night sky. He moved his gaze slightly up to see light toffee coloured hair that appeared to be ever so slightly gelled back into a bit of a classic yet not too formal style. Castiel liked that. He moved his focus back down only to be greeted by a pair of green eyes staring back at him. It wasn't an uncomfortable bit of eye contact. Usually meeting a stranger's gaze would leave him feeling uneasy. They remained entranced by the other until a burst of blonde hair caught both men's attention. Castiel's heart sank in his chest when he saw a beautiful blonde girl place a hand gently on the stranger's chest in order to give herself some leverage to lean up and give him a kiss on the cheek. He looked away and did his best to hide the disappointment growing in his ribs.

"Jimmy," a voice caught his attention and he was thankful for the distraction.

"Yes?" Castiel's focus turned to a young woman sitting across from him at the table. She had joined them not long ago seeing as Charlie somehow knew her. Castiel knew they had been introduced but for the life of him he couldn't remember her name. She smiled.  
"We were just talking about all of our goals for the new year. Do you have one?" she asked. Castiel paused for a moment and thought.

"I do," he admitted. The groups face lit up.

"Well don't leave us hanging then, Jim!" Charlie exclaimed.

The man took in a small breath of air and then exhaled.

"To live this year as though it were my last."

It hadn't taken Castiel very long to decide he had enough of people and crowds. He had politely excused himself from the group and made his way out to wander the emptier hallways in the hotel. It was relaxing. In all the years that Castiel had been attending the Palace hotel for parties he had never taken the time to really look at the photographs that hung on the walls. They were all of people from decades in the past. Castiel did his best to ignore the ache in his heart. He had been doing alright until a certain picture had caught his eye. The man stopped and took a step closer. Realization flooded over him as he reached out to touch the white frame.

"God…" Castiel whispered. A smiled tugged at his lips. He hadn't seen Gabriel or Balthazar's faces in so long. And there he was, not looking much older than twenty, sandwiched between his two cousins. They were all laughing at something that had long since been forgotten. Castiel did remember the night though. They boys hadn't even noticed someone taking their picture. They'd all been too deep in wine, good company, and clearly even better conversation. Things had been so much simpler then.

Gabriel used to write to him during his time as a solider in the early 1940s. Castiel never got one of the letters. Castiel's Aunt Anna did. She had always gently folded the paper back up and placed it back in the envelope so when her nephew returned he could read them. Gabriel told stories of the war. They'd make Anna smile and later Castiel would cry over them. No doubt all of the stories were exaggerated but no one blamed Gabriel, he needed something to keep him fighting until the second world war came to a close. In the end it didn't matter. Gabriel Novak was never seen after he fought on Omaha Beach during the invasion of Normandy. There was no body to be buried. Nothing but Gabriel's personal belongings was sent home. The day the letter from Aunt Anna arrived in Amiens explaining what had happened to Gabriel Castiel hand cried until his eyes were red, his head pounded, and he could cry no more. Hannah had held her father close because what else was she to do?

Balthazar Novak had lasted longer. He wasn't quite the same after his brother's death though. Castiel didn't need to see him to know that, the letters said enough. Balthazar had died when an anti-war protest centered on the conflict in Vietnam had turned violent. Only two people lost their lives that day. Balthazar and someone Castiel didn't know and never would know. He didn't go to either of his cousin's funerals. He couldn't. Castiel Novak hadn't aged at all and that wasn't something he could face. So, he silently mourned for years.

Castiel shook off the thoughts he had let himself get lost in. Now wasn't the time to drown in the ocean of guilt that would never dry out. The man looked away from the picture of the three smiling men who had no idea of what their futures would bring and began to move forwards.

"Five," the crowd of party goers cheered in unison. Castiel stepped into the main hallway.

"Four." He glanced around.

"Three." Castiel turned left.

"Two." He was halfway to one of the windows at the end of the hallway.

"One." The skyline of New York was just visible out the window from where Castiel stood. He kept moving forward.

"Happy New Year!" A chorus of yells echoed through the building. Castiel said nothing as he leaned against the window sill. He wanted to be flooded with joy due to the start of a brand new year but any hint of happiness that had been lit in his soul quickly had flickered out leaving him with nothing but an empty feeling.

Fireworks crackled in the sky above. Castiel wished he could get lost in the display but he just wasn't swept away by the burst of colours lighting up the night. He let out a long sigh. However, at what Castiel decided was the perfect timing, his phone began chirping and violently vibrating in his pocket.

"H-"he began but was quickly cut off.

"Happy birthday, dad," Hannah let out a joyful cry. Castiel winced ever so slightly at the volume of her voice but he did pull the phone away from his ear. Instead he let out a genuine laugh.

"Oh hush," he joked. "The whole ordeal starts to lose its excitement after about 103. And this year it's…" Castiel trailed off.

"107," Hannah chimed in.

"That's right, the big one-oh-seven." No matter how old he got, Castiel still couldn't get over the surreal idea that he somehow never aged. It never sat well with him. However, he didn't dwell on it for too long. "Did you do anything fun tonight? Go out anywhere? Meet any cute boys?" Hannah only scoffed at the last part.

"Oh please. I just stayed home and a nice quiet night by myself," she corrected her father.

"That doesn't sound very fun," Castiel frowned.

"No. No it was nice. Really it was. I'm getting too old for going out and partying all night," Hannah said before she let out a small yawn.

"Are we still on for tomorrow?" Castiel questioned, his voice growing slightly softer. Hannah hummed in agreement before she spoke up

"Wouldn't miss brunch with you for the world."

"Alright, well get some sleep then, Hannah Banana. I'll see you soon," Castiel spoke.

"Goodnight dad, I love you."

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Seconds later, the line had gone silent.

It had never been very difficult tracking down Charlie, even when she was hidden in a crowd. Castiel had spotted her in what he deemed 'record timing'. A smile slipped onto his lips as he watched her enthusiastically chattering away and waving her hands as she did so at a new table with a new crowd of strangers. The man made his way behind her chair. He slowly and carefully placed a hand on her shoulder so as not to scare her. When Charlie glanced back at him Castiel smiled.

"I think I'm going to head home now," he said. The ginger turned to face him, a frown forming on her lips and gave him the best 'unhappy' look she could muster.

"Oh come on, Jim, the night is still young!" Charlie urged. Castiel simply nodded in agreement.

"I know, I know, but I hate leaving Churchill alone for long periods of time," he explained. Charlie let out a sigh but didn't argue any further.

"Get home safe, okay? Text me when you are at your place," she ordered.

"Of course," Castiel agreed. He gave her a quick kiss on the forehead and then headed out of the ballroom.

Castiel let out a sigh of relief as he stepped into the empty elevator and mindlessly hit the button that closed the doors. Not a second later there was a thump that caused Castiel to jump slightly out of his skin.

"Shit!" a man cursed. The elevator doors reopened and the stranger was able to pull his hand back, shaking it as he did so. It no doubt hurt getting ones fingers sandwiched between two elevator doors, Castiel had to admit.

"Are you okay?" he asked. The whole situation had not yet completely processed in his brain. Castiel blinked and oh shit, the oddball who had thought it was a wise idea to stop the elevator from moving because he couldn't be bothered to just safely wait for the next just had to be the attractive man that he had been looking at earlier. It was just his luck that was for sure.

"That'll teach me not to put my hand where it doesn't belong," the stranger joked as he slipped into the empty space beside Castiel in the elevator.

"Something tells me it won't," Castiel replied, his gaze was glued to the buttons on the wall straight in front of him.

"You know that was a risky move," the stranger said. There was a pause that followed. It didn't last too long before the man added "not introducing myself to you before you left, is what I mean."

Castiel said nothing.

"I'm Dean," Dean introduced himself.

"Jimmy," the other replied.

"Like the poem?" Dean questioned. Castiel looked over at him quickly, his eyebrows furrowed closer together in confusion.

"What poem?"

Dean cleared his throat.

"There was a boy whose name was Jim;

His friends were very good to him." A sharp nod soon followed the lines from the poem. Dean looked pleased with the fact that he had been able to remember the words to the poem in question correctly and without seconding guessing himself.

Castiel tried not to laugh, he really truly tried, but he didn't keep a straight face for long and soon was bent over howling in laughter. Eventually, he managed to calm himself down and stood upright, rubbing the tears from his eyes. Dean didn't look insulted or horrified at the other's reaction, if anything he was seemed extremely happy with it.

"Who wrote that?" Castiel wheezed. Dean scratched the back of his neck.

"Oh you know, one of the old romantics."

"Right," the dark haired man remarked clearly doubting that some 'old romantic' had wrote a poem like the one Dean had just recited.

"Well, I could say more but I don't want to come off as a 'know-it-all'," he stated and gave small shrug of his shoulders. The end of Dean's sentence, however, was dulled by the loud ding of the elevator indicating it had reached the main floor. The doors soon opened up.

"Too bad," Castiel spoke. He took a few steps forward until he was completely out of the elevator before he added "I like 'know-it-alls'." And with that, Castiel began heading towards the exit of the building at the other end of the hall but it didn't take long for Dean to catch up and match Castiel's pace.

"So – uh, where are you off to?" Dean asked. He had his hands stuffed in the pockets of the dress pants that he was wearing. Castiel didn't glance over but he did smile politely as if to acknowledge the question before answering.

"Someplace with better food… my apartment, and what about yourself?"

"Oh. Back up to the party. I just wanted to spend twenty-seven floors with you," Dean answered. Castiel had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop his true emotions from shining past the forced pleasant smile he was wearing.

"That was a risky move," he eventually said in a voice just a little too soft.

"What?" Dean blinked confusion obvious in his expression.

"Leaving your date upstairs, I hope those twenty-seven floors were worth it," Castiel hummed. He glanced over to Dean who looked just as confused if not a little more so than before.

"What are you talking about?"

Castiel let out an aggravated sigh and stopped walking. He was just in front of the doors leading out onto the busy streets of New York City. Before saying anything, the man turned towards the other and looked him dead in the eyes.

"That beautiful blonde that you were sporting on your arm earlier this evening," he explained. Realization seemed to dawn on Dean.

"You mean Jo? Jo Harvelle?" he questioned. Castiel only gave him a look as if to say 'I have no idea who this Jo Harvelle is so maybe?' Dean just shook his head slightly and added "her mom is the chief here. I'll make sure to tell her that you aren't a fan of her cooking."

Castiel's expression faltered as guilt began pooling into his lungs and chest. Dean smiled and the waves calmed instantly.

"And she's not my date."

Castiel said nothing. Instead, he merely turned on his heels, pushed open the front doors, and walked out into the brisk January night.

"Taxi, sir?" a voice called at him from his left. Castiel didn't stop walking.

"Yes please, thank you," he replied. It wasn't long before he was forced to stop just at the edge of the pavement. Soon after Castiel had stopped moving he felt the presence of someone shift closer to his left side. He didn't need to look over to know who it was.

"Goodnight."

"Oh, I'll just wait with you," Dean replied sweetly. Castiel rolled his eyes.

"So you can find out where I live?"

"It does make it a lot easier to send flowers," Dean chuckled and despite Castiel's best efforts he couldn't stop the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He said nothing and instead looked down the street. There was a taxi making its way closer to the hotel and thank God for that. He wasn't sure how much longer he could play nice with Dean before making it clear that he had no intention of furthering there connection to one another.

"Okay, thank you. I'll manage," Castiel began. The car pulled up along the curb in front of where he stood. The darker haired man opened up the backdoor of the car but didn't get in right away. Instead he looked back towards Dean. "Goodbye. It's been a real adventure meeting you," and with that, he turned his focus back forwards and climbed into the taxi shutting the door behind him.

"Seventy-seven, Greene Avenue, Brooklyn," Castiel mumbled at the driver and the taxi began to move.

"Wait!" a cry rang out. Castiel jumped slightly due to the sudden loud noise. The taxi lurched to a stop, throwing him forward slightly. He caught himself easily enough as both of his hands pushed into the back of the seat in front of him. The man moved so his back was once more against the seat behind him before he looked to his right to see why the taxi had stopped. A hand was gripping desperately to the space between the open car window and the rest of the vehicle. A warm smile curled onto Castiel's lips but it was forced.

"There you go again, putting your hand in places that it doesn't belong," he joked. Dean didn't laugh or smile. Instead, he kept looking down at Castiel with an expression that made his heart ache for things he couldn't have.

"How do we get in touch?" Dean asked and removed his hand from the open window. Castiel said nothing for a short moment. He then smiled sadly.

"Happy New Year, Dean."

And with that, the taxi cab once again began moving forward into the city that never slept. Castiel couldn't bring himself to look back the whole trip to Brooklyn.


End file.
